


Come Back, Be Here

by AgingPhangirl (Madophelia)



Series: Fic Every Day in June 2017 [12]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2009!phan, Angst, Falling In Love, Fluff, Getting Together, Long Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-13 08:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11181126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madophelia/pseuds/AgingPhangirl
Summary: Phil hates saying goodbye, he can't wait for the day he doesn't have to anymore.OrThe five times Dan and Phil said goodbye in a train station, and the one time they didn’t.





	1. Discovering the distance

**Author's Note:**

> June 2 of my Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.
> 
> Fun fact, I’ve been with my fiancé for 7 years, 5 of which (after uni) have been long distance. We exist on Skype calls and occasional visits. He is up north and I am down south. In 18 days we are closing the distance for good in our brand new house. My elation at that made me write this fic.
> 
> I’m going to post chapters of this each day for the rest of this week as it might be a bit longer than a simple one-shot.
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

**1.**

Manchester Piccadilly is a stupid train station, Phil concludes. The wide glass walls separating the main thoroughfare from the platforms is an impassable barrier for him, the yellow-jacketed security in the doorways checking for valid tickets are a beacon illuminating the inevitable end to this day, of the warm hand currently nestled in his own, to the beautiful vibrant boy at his side. It is potentially the end of everything, he can’t be sure if any of this is lingering, whether the fragile perfection might crumble once he leaves. It’s a bittersweet feeling sitting roughshod in his chest, like a bubble expanding to fill the space. It is levity and happiness curved around every breath he takes, but that is liable to pop with the slightest pressure. 

“I can’t go any further,” Phil nods towards the security guards and brings his feet to a stop. They’re in no particular space, just a random spot amidst the crowd. Phil feels they should move to the side, find a more memorable space, a physical location to hang this emotion on. As it is, there is nothing to define this patch of floor from one a few feet over, but he knows he’ll have no trouble recreating it in his mind later anyway. 

Dan looks deflated at his side, lip pulled between his teeth as his hand slips from Phil’s grasp. It feels empty now, fingers flexing as if getting used to being disconnected again. 

“No dramatic platform goodbye?” He asks with a laugh. It isn’t his usual one, that one vibrates through his whole body, full and rounded and uninhibited, at least around Phil it is. This one sounds less, confined to only the space in his mouth, like an echo of a laugh he should be able to produce but that is buried under a layer of something else. 

“Afraid not.” 

Dan shuffles his feet, hitching his bag up a little further onto his shoulder. He isn’t meeting Phil’s eyes, is letting them slide sideways to spy the illuminated departure boards. Phil looks too, and he thinks Dan might be looking at the little ‘on time’ next to his train notification and wishing it might change. Just a few more minutes, he pleads into the universe, I’m not ready for this to be over. 

“Oh well, probably for the best. I’ll only make a fool of myself by crying or something.” 

Phil is getting used to Dan covering his real intentions with humour. He watches as the young, timid boy pushes down true feelings and replaces them, covers them over with sarcasm and quick wit. Phil is beginning to learn to spot the signs though, can almost decipher what should be there, the double meaning behind Dan’s cynicism and self deprecation. 

“I’ll miss you,” he says in response. He hadn’t really intended to say it, because he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to miss Dan yet, but the words had tripped from him, sentence fully formed. 

Dan looks up then, meets his eyes and furrows his brow slightly. “I think…” he sighs slightly as if admonishing himself for the sentiment, “I’ll miss you too.” 

“You think so?” 

“Um, I mean… yes? I will. I just… I don’t want to miss you. I didn’t want to let myself get to the point where… well. You know.” 

Phil doesn’t really know, because Dan isn’t great at being that transparent with what he’s thinking, Phil has to pick it up slowly. Which in this instance, when he could really do with the clarity before Dan gets on a train and leaves him, doesn’t sit comfortably in Phil’s head, but he lets it go because he knows further prompting might scare Dan off entirely. At least he has this, the hanging hope of something.

“I should go…” Dan says when Phil doesn’t respond. “It’ll leave soon.” 

Phil glances at the board and knows he can’t even ask for another few minutes, they’ve already used them all up. 

“Goodbye then,” Phil says, his hands feeling empty and twitchy. 

“Bye.” 

They let their eyes linger, just for a few seconds, and Dan rocks on his heels as if he might be making up his mind about something. Phil doesn’t miss the slight shake of his head as whatever battle he’d been having with himself ends. Whatever it was, Dan has clearly decided not to take any action. Instead he steps back slightly, out of Phil’s space. 

“Text me when you get in? So I know you’re safe.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Dan insists, “But… yeah, okay. See you.” 

He can’t believe this is how it’s going to end. Some stupid request for further communication, a pathetic insistence wrapped up in concern. Dan takes a few more steps away, turns his body to leave and it hits Phil square in his chest, a tidal wave of something, a longing that has started just from broken eye contact. This can’t be it. 

He reaches out, lets his arm cross the space between them, catching Dan’s shirt between his fingers. “Dan…” 

“Oh thank God,” Dan breathes quickly, spinning on the spot, his body sliding along Phil’s arm so that his palm slips back behind his shoulder blade and suddenly Dan is pressed up against him, enveloped in his body. His other arm comes up too, wrapping around Dan’s slight frame, feeling Dan’s head drop to his shoulder and the sound of a choked sob escape him. 

“Don’t cry,” Phil says, his own anguish getting stuck in his throat so that it comes out croaky. 

“Says you,” Dan says with a pathetic chuckle that is trying to make him sound happier than he is. Phil isn’t convinced when feels a dampness seep through his t-shirt at his collarbone. 

“You’re coming back,” Phil reminds him, as well as himself. “You’re coming back.” 

“Halloween.” Dan states, nodding his head against Phil’s chest as if saying it will somehow make it happen faster. 

“Halloween,” Phil agrees easing Dan away so that he can peer into his eyes. 

Dan breaks his gaze, squeezes his eyes shut and tries to stop the tears. Phil reaches up to wipe a thumb tenderly across each cheekbone, wiping away the moisture he finds there. 

“Don’t go,” he suddenly pleads, “I…” 

Dan doesn’t answer, but he does look determined as he tips forward on his feet this time, shifting his weight onto his toes and tilting his chin up. There is a split second when Phil realises what’s happening before their lips are meeting. 

It isn’t the first time they’ve kissed. That was earlier, cradled in the sanctuary of Phil’s bedroom, limbs loose and tangled on his bed, giggling in each other’s space, carefree and languid. It wasn’t a conscious thing, and it had lasted only a few minutes, but Phil’s stomach had flipped over almost painfully as he allowed his hand to drift into Dan’s hair and brought their faces close, sliding their noses together. Dan had been eager and open-mouthed, just the right side of sloppy and uncoordinated that reminded Phil of just how little experience Dan had with all of this. But Phil had guided him through it, tipped his head with a steadying hand on the nape of his neck. When they finally found a rhythm, Dan breathing small noises into the space between them, it had been perfect. They didn’t go any further and they’d been pink-cheeked and bashful after the fact, but they’d managed to continue with their day, the knowledge of it lingering over them, tinged with the sadness of Dan’s inevitable departure. 

Phil hadn’t wanted to break the spell by talking about it, he doesn’t now either.

Phil’s stomach flips again this time, a sharp jolt as Dan initiates the contact. It’s easier this time and they fit together as if they’ve been doing this for years. Dan is a quick study it seems, or just more confident this time, pressing in close to Phil and running a hand up his arm making him shudder. Phil lets it happen, going pliant and soft as Dan kisses him. It feels like Dan is pushing everything he can’t say out loud into this kiss, and Phil wants to hear what he has to say. Their tongues slide together simply, sweet and gentle, without urgency. It’s over far too soon.

“I have to go,” Dan whispers, the regret evident. 

“I know,” Phil says, finding his joints stiff and reluctant and he lets him go. “I’ll miss you,” he repeats. 

“I’ll miss you too,” Dan replies. And then he’s gone, mixing with the crowd at the barrier, carried away with the sea of people and past the reflective jackets of the guardians at the door. Phil watches until he disappears entirely, and then for a little bit longer.


	2. Acknowledging the Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 13 of my Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.
> 
> A continuation of yesterday. 17 days and counting... 
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

**2.**

The train station is once again a bustle of people, and Phil feels the resentment build in him early. He knows he’s dragging his feet, letting his pace reflect the pull on his heart. He feels as though he hasn’t had enough time, it has slipped away like feathers in a breeze and he doesn’t know how to cling on to it.

Phil feels selfish, greedy, lets that fizz in his veins so that he can feel himself becoming grumpy. Dan must notice because he walks close, bumping their shoulders firstly before slotting their fingers together discreetly.

“I don’t want to go either,” he says conversationally, like it’s nothing.

“Hmm.”

Phil knows he’s wasting it, letting these last moments drain away in his bad mood, but he can’t bring himself to expect a happy ending when it keeps being torn away. He clings to Dan’s hand, squeezing his fingers and not letting him move more than a few inches from his side.

The problem is that they haven’t had any time alone. There had been the gathering and the crowds of people, drawing Phil’s attention away. He’d watched as Dan’s face lit up in recognition of the people he knew, and as he slipped into easy jovial conversation with those he didn’t. For the most part he’d stuck near Phil’s side, still shy and timid in his own way, but bright and wonderful when prompted. 

But he’d had to share him with those people, divide his time and energy amongst the crowd. Even though he’d been looking forward to the event for months, he traded it all in towards the end for a few stolen moments of Dan sat on the edge of a fountain, greasy fast food clutched in their hands and matching smiles on their faces.

He doesn’t know how long they sat there, legs and feet going numb in the cold, huddled together once they finished their food. The enforced separation they’d had to endure all day finally over, but Phil knew it would never be enough, not when Dan was leaving again the next day.

He draped an arm around Dan’s shoulders and tried to make it seem casual, like he wasn’t soaking up every single second, memorising it to recall later when he was alone again. Dan had smiled at him, as though he knew exactly what he was doing because he was doing it too, had leaned forward and kissed him briefly but deeply.

They’d decided, over Skype calls and long conversations, that they weren’t ready to share this with the world, wanted to keep it close and confidential, just for a bit longer, until it wasn’t as fragile. They haven’t labelled it, though they’ve come close a few times. But Phil wants to call Dan his, wants, selfishly, to gather him close and not let him go. But it’s too risky when they don’t know if they’d survive it.

“You’re quiet,” Dan says at his side.

“Sorry. I’m fine I just… You’re leaving again. Why are you always leaving?”

Dan stops then, just comes to a full halt in the middle of the crowd, not caring whether they are causing a jam in the flow of pedestrian traffic. He pulls Phil closer by the hand until they are nose to nose.

“Hi,” he says, reaching up to peck him on the lips as though there aren’t a million people around them right now.

They could be spotted, Phil notes, though it isn’t likely. Despite the danger he can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips, even from such a little thing.

“Hi,” he repeats and Dan steps back. “Except, goodbye, I guess.”

Dan sighs and leans his head forward to Phil’s shoulder. “Stop,” he whines, “Please, just… for a few more minutes can we pretend that I’m not leaving?”

Phil nods, “We can do that.”

Dan lifts his head, steps back and straightens his shirt even though it isn’t disrupted.

“How do we do that?” Phil asks after a few moments silence.

“I don’t know,” Dan admits, “I just…”

Phil watches as Dan swallows down what he wants to say, bundles the words up small and lets them rest behind his tongue. He wants to urge them out, to tug at Dan until they tumble from him like water, but he knows that he can’t press it. Dan always tells him eventually, Phil just has to wait until he’s ready. Sometimes Dan needs to process things before he lets Phil in on it, and Phil is learning to roll with that.

“How long til your train?” Phil asks, even though he knows perfectly well they have exactly 34 minutes. 33. The digital clock on the departure board ticks over.

“Not long enough,” Dan grumbles.

“Come on,” Phil says, pulling where their hands are still connected but dropping it as soon as Dan stomps after him. He wants to hold on, but he knows the predicament they’d be in if anyone saw them and recognised them.

“Where are we going?” Dan asks, dragging his feet as much as Phil had been.

“What we always do when we have time to kill,” Phil says, like they’ve had years of this, time upon time to build up traditions and routine. They haven’t, but Phil lets the pretence linger over them for a moment. “Get coffee.”

The line isn’t as long as Phil expects it to be so they end up with cold hands wrapped around warm take away cups full of caramel caffeine quicker than he’d thought they would. They’re stood in no-mans-land again, hovering near the stairs to the metro, leaning on the railing and sipping their drinks in lieu of saying anything.

Their arms are pressed together, leaning in the small space they’ve found to linger, proximity and time their only excuses for shamelessly moving up close. Phil feels the heat of Dan’s bare skin along his arm and pushes down the desire to kiss him breathless where he stands.

There’s a tension, the expectation that if it continues to hurt like this when they part that it means something, that if they’re going to keep putting themselves through it, it had better be _for_ something.

“I never wanted this, you know” Dan says out of nowhere.

Phil doesn’t enjoy the pain evident in Dan’s voice. But he does revel in the sentiment it evokes, the knowledge that this is effecting him too. The want has settled low in his stomach, heavy like a stone he can’t breathe around.

“Didn’t want what?” Phil asks. There it a flitter of fear spiking through him, that Dan might mean he doesn’t want him, doesn’t want what they’re tentatively building. Because they are, aren’t they?

“This long-distance relationship stuff. It…” he sets his coffee cup down on the lip of the banister behind them and turns to face Phil head on, “It hurts, frankly.”

Phil feels his eyes go wide at _relationship_. They haven’t named it, Dan has resisted naming it and Phil hasn’t pressed it. Dan is young, had ended one relationship only 6 months ago because of the impending distance, Phil knows how distasteful this is to Dan, he hadn’t dare hope…

“It hurts me too,” he nods, eyes still wide and aching from not blinking. He pressed them closed for a lingering second, so that it’s a stuttered movement.

Dan seems to be expecting something. “That’s it?” he asks, rolling his eyes and flopping back against the railing.

“What’s it?” Phil asks.

“I say we’re in a long-distance relationship and you just agree?”

Phil frowns and adjusts his hair. “Did you not want me to agree?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Then…?”

Dan’s mouth twists into a smile, as though he doesn’t want to be wearing it, would rather stay irritable and annoyed. “I don’t know, a little fanfare? We haven’t exactly called it… that.”

Phil reaches out, rests a hand on Dan’s arm and pulls him half a step closer. Not so close as to arouse suspicion but close enough that when Phil drops his voice, no one around them can hear.

“I wish we were alone right now,” Phil says, “I wish you weren’t going, I wish we were in my room, on my bed, I wish I was kissing you, I wish we were… I wish…” He sighs, “Dan, I want so much fanfare, you’ve no idea.”

Dan’s mouth parts, pink lips plump and slack his tongue darting out to wet the bottom one. Phil has never wanted so much in his life.

“I…” Dan groans, low and quiet, “Fuck Phil, I want that too.”

“Next time,” Phil promises. “Next time we’ll… we’ll do something special. Just you and me… some fanfare. Okay?”

Dan nods, “Okay.”

“We can make it work, Dan. I know we can.”

Dan smiles then, his real one, all teeth and dimples in the way that makes Phil’s heart stop slightly.

“I think we can too.”

All too soon Phil is looking over Dan’s shoulder, squinting at the yellow digits on the departure board and realising the moment has come again, when he has to let Dan move away. They both feel the heavy press of it, the ache of having to part even more prominent now they’ve agreed. Now they’ve named it.

“Text me when you get in,” Phil reminds him, like the first time.

Dan just rolls his eyes, “I will.”

“In fact, text me on the train. I don’t want to wait 4 hours.”

“Okay,” Dan chuckles, throwing his arms around Phil.

It’s big and jokey, a parody of their normal hugs. Where Phil would normal slide his hands along Dan’s ribcage, feeling the heat of him and the jut of his hip bone, he settles for keep his elbows bent and patting his back. It’s over too soon, but he sees his own longing mirrored back in Dan’s eyes and would like to risk something more than the platonic touch they’ve had to settle for.

“Bye,” Dan says, sadly. “Soon, right?”

“Soon.” Phil nods, “Bye. I… I’ll miss you.”

Dan nods, and for a minute Phil is afraid the façade of friendship they’re putting on doesn’t stretch to confession of missing someone, that Dan won’t return the sentiment.

“I’ll miss you too,” he says finally, “more than anything I’ve ever missed in my life.”

Phil nods and lets that be it, for now. The rest will come later.

Dan once again disappears into a crowd, and Phil prides himself on the fact that he only lingers for a little while after Dan disappears from view. If he pulls his phone from his pocket and sends a text to Dan before the train has even pulled out of the station, well that’s no one’s business anyway.


	3. Learning the Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 14 of my Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.
> 
> A continuation of yesterday. 16 days and counting... 
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

**3.**

This would never feel easy. The winding crowds, the skipping hesitation of his steps on hard floors, it would always be difficult and heartbreaking and Phil hated it every time. There weren’t as many people today, it’s Christmas eve and snowy and people aren't travelling. Except Dan, Dan is always travelling, always leaving. 

He’s matching Phil’s steps by his side, fluffy hat pulled down on his head, hiding his face. Phil knows he’s a bit sad, which won’t do for Christmas, but he doesn’t really know how to fix it, not when he feels sad too. 

It’s easy to get swept up with the time when Dan is here with him, to forget that their moments are dwindling. They waste it sprawled together on the couch, playing video games, eating junk food. Phil feels he should be taking Dan out, showing him things, broadening his horizons. But he can’t bring himself to share, wants to keep Dan close and secret just for a bit longer. 

“This sucks,” Dan mumbles at him, “It doesn't get any easier does it?” 

“It will do,” Phil assures him, though he isn’t sure how much he really believes it, “Eventually it’ll be easier. It hasn’t been that long.” 

“Is it too soon for me to say I want to imagine an end to it?” 

“Dan…” Phil draws him up to a stop with a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t say that. I don’t… it’ll get easier. I’m sorry if I’m being grumpy or something. I won’t, I’ll--” 

“Phil, calm down,” Dan says, a placating smile on his mouth and the back of his hand brushing Phil’s so that it could be an accident, “I meant… well… sometimes it’s nice to think about like… not being long distance one day.” 

“Oh…” Phil lets the tense air collected in his chest out in a long stream, it unfurls making his shoulders drop. “Oh Dan… Yes!” He lets his lips roll back over his teeth, grinning wide and itching to pull Dan to him, to kiss his mouth, to touch his skin. 

Dan is biting his lip again and it drives Phil crazy. He wants to kiss him more than anything, especially when the idea of having him closer for longer is teasing at him, prodding his subconscious with the seduction of it. 

“You’d want to?” 

Phil does reach out now, it’s thoughtless and he knows that he shouldn’t, but he determinedly wraps his fingers in the fabric of Dan’s coat and draw him closer. 

“Are you kidding me? It’s all I think about when we’re not together.” 

Dan’s dimple deepens as he smiles and Phil remembers running his thumb over it in the dark, learning him by feel alone. 

“I… I don’t have the logistics worked out yet.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Phil urges, “We don’t have to. I… I’m not exactly tied to here and you’re planning to go to uni. I can go anywhere… you could go anywhere. The world is our oyster.” 

Dan makes a movement, a tilt of his chin, and Phil knows that he’d be kissing him right now if he could. But the quick dart of his eyes across the people around them seems to stop him in his tracks. 

“You can’t uproot your life for me. You’d… you’d do that? For me? Phil, it hasn’t been very long. We’re brand new.” 

Phil nods, because they are brand new, barely two months in, but he can’t help but taste the concept of forever on his tongue and want to swallow it down in a wild flurry of unadvisable decision making. Dan feels permanent, solid, like something he’s been waiting for forever.

But Dan is eighteen, and these crazy notions of forever mean something different to him. He’s so conscious of the future and expectations and what he’s _meant_ to do with his life. Phil doesn’t really know where he fits in the future Dan has created, that sad grey future of lawyerdom and bending to his parent’s hopes and wishes. 

“I don’t know how it will work out,” Phil says instead of what he wants to, “But it will. One day, one day there won’t be any distance. Okay?” 

Dan nods, but his face remains thoughtful. “I mean it,” he whispers, looking to the floor more than he is at Phil, “You don’t have to stop your life for me. You should be going out and having fun and… I feel guilty making you stay in and Skype with me all the time. Don’t you want to… I don’t know, date or something?” 

“But we’re… you said…” 

Dan lets his foot slide slowly across the floor so the corner of his shoe is pressed up against Phil’s, it isn’t holding hands but it will do for now. 

“You said relationship,” Phil finishes finally. 

“I did,” Dan says, staring at where their feet are joined, “But I kind of just decided didn’t I? I didn’t really ask or discuss what that means. So if you wanted to… be with other people, while we’re long distance…” he trails off, the sentence static and heavy over them like a shroud. 

“Dan,” Phil risks lifting Dan’s head up with a soft finger under his chin but drops it quickly. “I want you, just you. We’ll figure this thing out, this _relationship_ out. I want that, and everything it entails. You, only you. Okay?”

Dan sighs and sets his shoulders back into the familiar shape they are when he’s determined about something. “Okay. Good.” 

“Very good.” 

Phil is lost in thought for a moment, Dan is warm in his coat and mere inches away for now, but he’s leaving and he won’t have this again for a while. They’ve been lucky that Dan has been able to visit so frequently but he knows he has his internship in January and then a family trip to India and Phil doesn’t know, exactly, when the next time will be. They’ve discussed the possibility of Phil’s birthday, but he won’t let himself hope for that yet, not when that time is sandwiched between two fairly busy things. 

They’ve just promised fidelity, commitment even. They discussed the concept of not having the distance and not having anyone else and Phil is dizzy with it. They’re shifting, shaping their lives around each other in tiny increments, and he doesn't know what to do with that. Because before all of this happened he didn’t really have a direction, finish uni, do the post grad, move back to his parents and then… nothing. No plans. Dan had appeared in his life and jumbled it all up so that now the only thing that is certain for him is the image of Dan, not leaving, never being too far away.

They turn back to walk up to the departure boards, the familiar and ominous yellow glow of them bright and fuzzy until they get up close. This is routine by now, they way they keep their distance in public, check how much time they have left together, try not to look as sad as they feel.

“It’s late,” Dan realises, his voice full of something happy. 

Phil whips his head up to stare at the board and sure enough the digital numbers indicate they have been granted an extra ten minutes. Phil has never been thankful for delayed public transport before, but his eyes light up and his whole body grasps at this little bit of reprieve. 

“What do you want to do for ten minutes?” Phil asks. 

“The same thing we always do when we’ve got time to kill,” Dan replies, his voice soft and fond and giggling, just as elated with the situation as Phil is. “Get coffee.” 

They end up in Starbucks again, and Phil insists on something festive “because it’s Christmas” he argues, and so they end up with cups of something hot and sugary and not at all coffee-like. 

There is a free table but they make their way past it in silent agreement, going back to the concourse to watch the trains pulling in and out of the station. He doesn’t know why they torture themselves like this, watching the inevitable happen mere metres away, but Phil thinks that perhaps Dan is trying to keep the board in his eyeline, praying for the appearance of ‘cancelled’ or perhaps just another adjustment in the time that his train is expected. Just some more time, there is never enough time.

By the time they reach the bottom of their coffee cups he can see the train. Dan will have to run now, or at least keep up a fast pace of walking. They’ve completely missed the moment where a proper goodbye is feasible and it all happens in a rush. 

Phil goes to hug Dan, another jovial platonic-based thing that is far removed from the actual embrace he wants to give. But Dan reaches up, going onto his toes ever so slightly, catching Phil off guard for a quick, hard second as he kisses him square on the mouth. 

He feels the fluff of Dan’s hat press into his cheeks, the slight scratch of man-made materials, straps dangling around his ears. It tickles, and Phil wants to shove it from his head and run his hands through what he knows is the curly hair underneath it, left over from Dan’s reluctance to straighten it that morning in favour of laying next to Phil in his bed, dripping water from his wet hair down Phil’s neck as they huddled together.

There isn’t time for Phil to react, to kiss back or slide his arms any further around him than they had already been before Dan is stepping away, fumbling with his goodbye and hitching his bag up his body, preparing to run. 

“Text me…” Phil manages before Dan disappears from view, quicker this time. 

This time he gets the text message before he’s even finished crossing the station.


	4. Fighting the Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 15 of my Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.
> 
> 15 days…  
> I broke my laptop charging cable so there could be some disruption to this project until my internet gets installed on 17th and I can use my desktop PC. (I’ve been using my laptop and stealing my parents WiFi)
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

Phil is beginning to resent this train station. On the one hand, when Dan is arriving the lights on the concourse are bright, and the hustle and bustle of the crowds feed into his nervous energy, jumping on the spot, peering over them to seek out his first look at Dan making his way over to him. On days like today though, the frantic energy of people moving around feels like friction, like he can’t get enough space to breathe. 

Dan doesn’t seem to be having the same problem, he’s chatting endlessly at Phil’s side, apparently oblivious to his monosyllabic responses. Phil is learning Dan, has started to become fluent in his mannerisms, but he mustn’t be as knowledgeable as he once thought because he could swear Dan is nervous. 

Phil uses his hands to talk frequently, tends to amplify his communication with paralinguistic cues in the form of wide, fast hand movements. Dan is more stoic, with a tendency to fiddle with whatever is closest by when he’s getting on to really difficult subjects. But today Dan’s hands are moving wildly, he’s practically vibrating with it. 

“Are you okay?” Phil asks when Dan takes a breath. 

“Yes,” Dan says, “Why?” 

“You seem… I don’t know. Nervous?” 

Phil feels a little sick, the nagging sensation that Dan could be nervous about giving bad news, about telling Phil that he’s finding this too difficult. 

“I’m fine.” 

Phil nods silently, not wanting to press the issue, though he suspects this is more to do with his own fear of what he might find there rather than trying to protect Dan’s feelings.

The board is lit up in the same way it always is and they crane their necks to look, both deflated at the ‘on time’ announcement even though they expected it.

“I guess delays are only granted as Christmas presents,” Dan says, a shy smile tugging at his mouth.

“Could have given me one for my birthday though,” 

“Your birthday was yesterday,” Dan points out. 

“Yeah… but you’d think the train gods might let their mercy drift into the day after as well. It’s Sunday, and you’re leaving, and then going on holiday for two whole weeks in a place where you might not have wifi, that’s not a very nice birthday present.” 

“Train gods?” 

“Shut up.” Phil laughs, his mouth climbing into a pout. 

“It’s fine,” Dan says, “It’s cute.” 

Along with the nervousness it seems Dan is being more liberal with his affection today. He’s stepped into Phil’s space, not touching, but they are close enough that if you were inclined to do so you could interpret their relative spatial positions as indicating more than platonic intentions. It confuses Phil to no end, as well as making him fight and internal war with himself over whether he actually wants to step away, whether he actually cares if they are spotted or not. But he knows Dan does care, usually, so he won’t press it. Instead, he’ll just enjoy today and assume that he’s getting a little extra devil-may-care from Dan as an extended birthday treat.

Phil feels his cheeks flush slightly at the praise and he drums his fingers on his leg to stop himself reaching out. 

“I could give you an extra birthday present if you like?” Dan asks, a slightly crazy smile on his face. 

“Oh yeah?” Phil cocks an eyebrow, or hew tries to, he’s not sure what his actual facial expression is but Dan seems to get the intent.

“Ew, no. I’m not blowing you in a bathroom or something. I meant an actual present… well… not a _thing_. You can’t touch or anything it’s… Um--” 

“Dan,” Phil interrupts him, “What the hell are you going on about?” 

“Just…come here.” He catches Phil’s cuff in his fingers and tugs until Phil is following him across the station. They come to rest in the underpass, near the ticket machines. There aren’t as many people here, and the ones that are aren’t paying attention to them as much. They crowd into a dimly lit corner and Dan looks up at him with such fondness that Phil feels his chest might burst. 

“This is all very secretive,” Phil notes, “And you’ve only got ten minutes until your train leaves.” 

“It won’t take long,” Dan insists, “I just… I didn’t want to say anything in front of your parents because… well, I don’t know how they’d take it.” 

“Okay…” 

“It’s nothing bad!” Dan says in a rush, “But they might not… approve? I guess. Or they might think that it’s stupid or too fast and anyway it might not even happen and--” 

Phil reaches out with his hand and places over the top of Dan’s flailing one. He squeezes Dan’s fingers lightly between his own and it seems to slow Dan down, make him take a breath. “Calm down,” Phil says, “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine. You said it was a present, it can’t be that bad.” 

Dan breathes out sharply, like a staccato sigh. “I applied to Manchester university.” 

Phil knows his mouth is gaping open, knows he hasn’t said anything, knows he can’t. He feels rooted to the spot, the overwhelming knowledge of it rolling over him, the possibilities…the beautiful glorious image of Dan, here, at last. 

“You…?”

“Yeah,” And Dan’s dimples are out, he’s grinning madly at him, Phil has never wanted to kiss him so badly. 

“For… what? When?” 

“UCAS deadline was the 19th January. I… I didn’t know whether I should tell you.” 

“Of course you should… You did it without telling me? Oh my God Dan, do you know what this means?” 

Dan shrugs, “I mean, I got the grades. I got them last year before my gap year so it’s not like I have to wait for them or anything.”

“So, wait. I’m confused. You don’t have to wait for grades so… did you get in?” 

“They…” Dan shifts slightly closer and drops his voice like it’s a big secret. “I got an unconditional offer.”

“OH MY GOD!” Phil wants to throw his arms around Dan, to pull him up close and bury his face in his neck, kiss his lips and breathe him in. He does none of those things, instead he wraps a hand around his bicep and jostles him slightly.

“I know, I know. They only hurdle now is my parents. They don’t know I applied, I don’t really know how they’ll feel about it so I haven’t even accepted the offer yet.” 

Phil makes himself relax, tries to adopt a neutral expression, one that isn’t the embodiment of begging Dan to throw caution to the wind and come _here_.

“Well, it’s your life Dan.” 

“I know. And I applied to Law like they wanted so hopefully that will go a ways to accepting it. They’re just still a bit… funny. About you.They might thinks that’s the only reason I’m doing it.” 

“It’s not though, is it?” Phil checks, “You’re doing what you want to.” 

“I mean… I can’t really see myself as a lawyer, but I can’t really see myself as doing anything so it might as well be that. It’ll be a good job, and I’m sure I’ll like it fine once I grow up and get used to the idea. But Manchester is a good university. It’s not… It’s not _just_ for you. But… you know, you’re important to me.” 

“You’re important to me too,” Phil whispers, the hand on Dan’s arm tightening for a moment like the hug he’s unable to give. 

There is the sharing of a soft smile which says more than any words ever could. 

“Best birthday present ever,” Phil grins, “Even if it doesn’t actually happen.” 

“I’ll make it happen,” Dan says determinedly, “Happy Birthday, Phil.” 

Phil feels it all rush up in him then, that emotion he’s been trying to push down, the words he knows it’s far too early to say. His head is filled with so many ideas, the hopes he feels building in his chest like an ever expanding block of something warm. He’s never felt like he does with Dan, it’s big and slightly scary and he doesn’t want to shy away from it, not really, but it all feels too much until he’s here, until they know that it isn’t just a possibility anymore, but something inevitable, something permanent. 

“Thank you,” is all he says instead. 

Dan is moving again then, looking at the clock on his phone and grumbling slightly about the train and Phil is in a daze as they say goodbye. He gets another big, exaggerated hug that doesn’t really get into his personal space, but Dan hangs on for a few seconds longer than is appropriate and Phil can feel his cheeks pushed into a smile against his shoulder and it’s not perfect, but it’s as near as they can get. 

Phil opens his mouth to speak and Dan interrupts him. “Text you,” he laughs, “I know.” 

“Yeah,” he responds, “text me.” 

Then Dan is leaving, he’s getting on a train and he’s going away, away, always so far away but this time Phil can see an end to it, he can visualise it so perfectly. He resolves that if Dan decides he is going to come here, that he will do something too. He’ll move out of his parents, come to the city centre, take the next step in his life that he’s been putting off a little himself. It’s all coming together, and Phil can see the next tetris block of his life and clearly as he’s ever seen anything.


	5. Hating the Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 16 of my Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.
> 
> 14 days…
> 
> I wrote this sitting on a deck chair in my parents empty living room on a borrowed laptop. This was the hardest installment of fedij so far tbh, hopefully once my internet is installed tomorrow it will go back to being easy. As such this isn’t edited and is probably pretty poor all round. 
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

Phil feels deflated as they enter Wokingham train station. It’s a smaller one that they’re used to, the sprawling layout of Manchester Piccadilly seems like a vast memory compared to this smaller stop. Consequently, Dan is stood next to him on the platform waiting for the train, which is a novelty he didn’t know he was missing, but it means that with the people around them they feel too overlooked to even take a chance of being closer. 

It has been a weekend of restraining himself, keeping muscles taut, pulled away from Dan’s personal space. It’s not that Dan’s parents don’t know, because they do, but it’s still a little tense around the place, especially since he’s told them he’s going to Manchester University. Phil suspects his parents think Phil is the one that’s been influencing his decisions, so he’s tried to be on his best behaviour all weekend. It was kind of exhausting, and definitely not as satisfying a weekend as usual. 

“It’s been a bit of a weird weekend, huh?” Phil asks Dan, nudging him with his elbow. 

Dan steps out of reach and glares at him slightly. “It has been weird,” he agrees, “And now you're leaving.” 

Dan looks defeated, his soft hair swinging into his face in a way that he’d usually be fiddling with, fixing it back the way he wants it, but he isn’t. His hand hang limply at his side as he just looks drained, like he’s so tired of everything. 

“It’s not long until you move though,” Phil points out, for himself as much as it is for Dan, “a few months. And then there won’t be any leaving anymore.” 

Phil sees Dan try to smile, watches the twitch of muscles in the corner of his mouth, but also watches when it fails. 

Dan sighs, the breath leaving his mouth in a stream that is slow and never-ending, his eyes flutter closed for a second before he finally meets Phil’s eyes. 

“Something about you being _here_ is making it more difficult,” he admits, “You were always like, a thing in Manchester before… a future concept I could look forward to. But now I’ve seen you with my family and amongst my things and… in my bed. God Phil, it’s just going to make me miss you so fucking much when you get on that train. Is it like this for you every time?” 

“Hmm,” Phil hums in agreement, knowing exactly how Dan feels, “But then I don’t want to get on the train. I want to stay in your world, in your bed. Is this how you feel every time?” 

Dan nods emphatically, “Yes.” 

“Soon though,” Phil says, trying to look on the bright side.

“I hate it, “ Dan insists, “I hate that you have to leave, I hate that the time we spend together always has this stupid public bit at the end where I can’t kiss you like I want to. I hate how I’m going to go home now and feel sad about it. I hate how the only thing I want to do when I feel sad is see you and that is just not fucking possible. I hate it. How can you stand it?” 

“Dan…” 

Phil can’t deal with this, the constant ache from holding himself away, the physical pain of restricting his movements. Instead, he sinks his fingers into the soft material of Dan’s hoody and pulls him flush to his chest. Dan stumbles slightly but falls into his arms with ease, slotting into the space in the same way he always does, hiding his face in Phil’s shoulder. 

There is no one that can recognise them here in this tiny station, Phil reasons, and anyway he can’t bear to look at the pained expression on Dan’s face without reaching out to comfort him. 

“It’s not much longer,” Phil says into Dan’s hair. He could give him the months, days, hours that remain if he wanted, because the countdown in his head had started as soon as Dan had said he was moving. As soon as that crackling Skype connection where Dan had lit up like all his christmases had come at once saying _’I did it. I told them. I’m moving._

He doesn’t present Dan with the running total of time remaining, just holds him close and breathes in the scent of his shampoo from his hair. 

“It’s not soon enough,” Dan grumbles, but Phil can feel the tension in his shoulders relax slightly as he melts into Phil’s embrace. 

“No,” Phil agrees, “It isn’t. But we can make it. Soon you’ll be sick of me constantly bugging you all the time.” 

Dan pulls away to look Phil in the face. His eyes are slightly red, as if he’s fighting the threat of tears and winning, and his cheeks are flushed from the heat of Phil’s torso. Phil loves how Dan gets red so quickly, the pink tinge spreading across his skin at the mere hint of humidity or emotion. The rosy glow of him up this close is wonderful and Phil wants to press his lips everywhere Dan has blushed to a heated tint.

It shouldn’t make him think about other moments when Dan goes red, panting and pliant beneath him, but it does. He taps a distracting hand on Dan’s shoulder and pushes the thoughts from his head. Now is not the time, but it’s hard when they’ve had to be so separate all weekend, only finding one solitary afternoon to be intimate. 

“I’ll never be sick of you,” Dan says sincerely, “I don’t get sick of you. I… you’re not like other people to me. It’s like you don’t count.” 

“Charming,” Phil chuckles, shoving him slightly, breaking the awkward tension of deciding whether to stay close. 

“No.. no…” Dan says, returning his smiles, “I mean… other people are kind of tiring, you know? Like they take so much effort and I have to think about what to say all the time. Even with my family I feel like I’m constantly watching what I say. But with you…” 

He pauses for a moment, looking around himself at the people milling around the station platform. 

“Not in situations like this when all I can think about is finding some dark corner in which to kiss you stupid, but… in normal circumstances, I don’t have to try quite so hard. I can be myself. I’ve never had that before.” 

“Me too,” Phil agrees. “For the being myself thing. Well… and the kissing thing. Definitely that too.”

“Ugh,” Dan sounds as the sound of the approaching train filters in from a distance, “Is it time already?” 

“Must be,” Phil says, stepping away and picking up the bag at his feet. 

“I’m not good at this bit,” Dan says, “usually I get to be the one walking away, and that’s a bit easier, cus you have somewhere to go. Being the one having to stand still and watch it is horrible.” 

“Being the once having to drag myself away isn’t great either,” Phil shrugs, “I don’t know how you do it every time.” 

“Won’t have to soon,” Dan says, finally returning the sentiment Phil has been trying to persuade him with. 

Phil didn’t realise how much he needed to hear Dan say it before he does, he’s been so focussed of dragging Dan out of the funk that he was in that he hadn’t realised how upset he was about it all today. 

He risks another hug as the train pulls up alongside them, crowds bottlenecking at the doors waiting for the departing passengers to disembark. Phil stays back, taking Dan in his arms again and discreetly pressing his lips to his hairline. It isn’t quite as big and platonic and innocent as it usually is, both of them far too downtrodden by the separation to be able to maintain the calculate distance as they say goodbye.

Too soon, far too soon for Phil’s liking, the crowds start filtering onto the train and Phil has to follow them. Stepping away from Dan is difficult and he lets his fingers linger in trails down his arms before finally letting go. 

“Text me,” he hears Dan call over the sound of the train.

Phil smiles back at him rather than shout anything in response. Maybe Manchester has it right, he thinks, because he can’t hear over the noise of the engine as Dan is mouthing something else. 

Instead he pulls himself up onto the train and locates his pre-booked seat. He doesn’t even wait to get settled before he’s pulling his phone from his pocket and texting Dan. 

He watches from the window as Dan pulls his own phone from his jeans and smiles at the screen, looking up to meet Phil’s gaze through the glass. 

He lifts a hand in a wave as the train pulls away and they maintain eye contact until Dan disappears from view.


	6. Closing the Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June 17 of my Fic Every Day in June 2017 project.
> 
> This is so late and I’m so sorry. We’re having a heatwave and I’m still moving house and… everything is hot and sticky and disgusting and I accidentally got too much sun and felt really ill. 
> 
> 12 days tho... 
> 
> Send me prompts on [Tumblr](http://agingphangirl.tumblr.com) & [Twitter](http://twitter.com/agingfangirl)

**+1**

Phil is not going to miss this stupid train station and its stupid barriers and the obnoxious yellow of high-vis jackets on the guards that eye him suspiciously. Yes, he’d tried to sneak past them onto the platform, but it feels like he’s been counting down to this day forever so he wanted to have fewer metres between him and the object of his anticipation. Alas, they remained firm and hadn’t allowed him to pass. They’re eyeing him suspiciously and he isn’t sulking, much. 

He knows he’ll probably still have to come here, he can’t get away without travelling at all, but he’s hoping that just for a few months he can resist the place. He won’t miss it. 

He glances at this phone, checking the time, and then to the ever-familiar bank of digital displays above his head bearing train names and times. It’s on time, mostly, a few minutes delay but he’d clocked that on the live arrival times on his phone on the way over. He’s been watching the little dot make its way through the station names impatiently, but it won’t be long now and he has to remind himself not to hold his breath as he waits. 

He’s garnering a few weird looks because he’s pacing, his steps energetic, bouncing slightly, but he’s too focussed on the wild beating of his heart to even really notice the side-eyed glances in his direction. 

There’s a tannoy announcement that the train is pulling in and Phil feels his palms turn sweaty. It’s no different from any other time, at least that’s what he’s telling himself over and over like a mantra in his head, but his stomach is in knots because he knows that it isn’t true. It is different today, today is the day he’s been looking forward to for months. Today Dan is here to stay.

The crowds filter off the train and make their way through the doors, the mass of people swells to fill the entire doorway despite it being wide and Phil is glad both he and Dan are tall because he spots him almost immediately. He isn’t dragging his feet, he’s at an almost-run, the large heavy bag he’s carrying slung over one shoulder and Phil notices it for what it is, a sign that Dan is here for longer than a weekend. 

Phil picks up his feet too, fighting his way through the crowds, going the opposite direction to most and therefore swimming against the tide. But it feels like that's what they’ve been doing for months now, fighting against the current threatening to drag them off course. They’re here now, almost colliding as they reach each other, eyes wide but coming to a stop suddenly. They’re shuffling their feet hesitantly, dipping from side to side before breaking into bright laughter at how stupid they are being. 

“You’re real,” Phil breathes and Dan smiles widely at the memory. 

“I’m real,” he nods, “And I’m here.” 

“I barely know what to do,” Phil confesses, “I have no idea what I’m supposed to say.” 

Dan shrugs, “You don’t _have_ to say anything. Just… be happy?” 

Phil inhales, means to say something innocuous like “Welcome to Manchester” or “Can I take your bag?” but as the air escapes his lungs he can feel it roll over something he’s been keeping hidden in his chest for the longest time, tugging it along and before he knows it what tumbles out is “I love you.” 

Dan blinks, the deep expanse of his brown irises disappearing and appearing again over and over, shining like they always do when he’s happy but framed with a look Phil has never seen before. 

One breath. Two. Dan isn’t saying anything, just gazing at him with those eyes and Phil’s mouth is opening and closing, trying to pull the words back from the space between them because it’s too soon, too rushed, too much. He knows it, as he always does, he’s gotten to excited, too zealous in his emotions, unable to keep them small and contained. 

He hadn’t wanted it to be like this, he’d pictured it months from now when Dan was settled, when they’d practised the art of being used to each other for more than a few days at a time. Despite the impromptu confession, he can’t bring himself to regret it because it is how he feels, he just wishes he was able to subdue himself even slightly. 

He’s about to rush over it, cover up the words with other ones, rambling nonsense to grow in the silence like so many useless shrubs, but Dan is having none of it. 

“I love you too,” he says, the smile on his face wide and beautiful. 

Phil doesn’t waste any time, simply rushes forward, knocking the heavy bag to the floor with a thud and prays Dan’s laptop which is inevitably inside isn’t ruined as he scoops Dan up in his arms. 

“You’re here,” he almost sobs, the words cracking into Dan’s hair.

Dan’s hands are on his face, pulling him forward, cradling his cheek as he presses his chapped lips to Phil’s mouth. It’s quick, mostly chaste, except for the lingering swipe of Dan’s tongue on his bottom lip, mostly it just promises more. 

Dan steps back before it can get any more heated and heaves his bag back onto his shoulder. 

“I’ve been wanting to say that forever.” 

Phil feels his face flush with glee, “Me too,” he confesses, “I didn’t know if… I wanted to wait until…” 

“I’m here,” Dan says, “No more leaving.” 

“Yes.” 

They make their way across the station, fingers brushing slightly, enough to be an accident though Phil knows that it isn’t. 

“How were your parents about you coming up early?” 

“Fine,” Day assures him, “I think they expected it once I told them you had a flat.” 

“They’re bringing your stuff up on halls move-in day?” 

“Mmmhmm.” Dan hums. “How… um… how far away is your place from the halls? You know, so I can work out when I need to leave to meet them.” 

Phil smiles a little, because that isn’t the reason at all. 

“About a 30 minute walk.” 

“Ah.” 

He knows Dan is picturing walking that distance at night, in the dark. 

“Or there’s a bus that goes all night,” Phil offers. “Takes about 10 minutes.” 

Dan nods nonchalantly, as if he isn’t now thinking this is the best news ever.

Phil is feeling brave so he continues on with his train of thought. “Although, I figure you’ll be at mine all the time anyway, right? Eating all my food and dumping all your stuff there, isn’t that what you said?” 

“Ugh,” Dan shoves his face into his hand and groans, “I said that didn’t I? God. No wonder people think something is going on.” 

“But… something is going on,” Phil prompts.

“Yes… well… you know what I mean.” He gives Phil a gentle shove and they’re giggling in sync.

Phil pushes him back, but it isn’t nearly as forceful and Dan doesn’t even waver in his steps. Mostly it’s just so Phil can justify sinking his hands into Dan’s t-shirt again, checking he really is there, feel the warmth of him for a split second against his fingertips. 

“I should probably try to do the halls thing,” Dan points out. 

Phil nods, “Of course. I was only joking. I’m sure you’ll make loads of friends. You’ll probably be too busy to really come and eat all my food.” 

“Phil,” Dan says, coming to a stop. 

Phil draws up parallel to him, limbs flailing slightly at the sudden halt. 

“I won’t… I mean, before we leave the station you should know… this is it.” 

Phil cocks his head slightly, not really understanding. Dan is trembling, his words scattering across each other, stuttered and inarticulate. 

“I’m here.” Dan clarifies, “No more distance. I want to do the uni thing because… well because I should. But… you’re… I love you.” 

Phil feels a skip in his stomach at Dan saying it again. He knows he’ll never get used to it, never get sick of it. He could have it recorded on a loop for every hour of the day and it will still make him feel his dizzy elation swirling in his head.

“I love you too.” He replies instantly, not wanting the chance to pass him by but he can see Dan isn’t finished talking. 

Dan’s smile takes over his face seemingly without intent and Phil watches as it lights up his eyes in the most stunning way he’s ever seen. 

“I’m going to make friends at uni, and I’m going to do all of that stuff I’m supposed to… but make no mistake that I will be on your couch eating all your food and beating you at all your two player games and generally ruining your life with my presence.” 

“Could never ruin my life,” Phil mumbles. 

“Point is, I’m here. 30 minutes walk, 10 minutes bus journey, or simply on the other side of your couch. I’m here.” 

“You’re here.” Phil repeats. “Finally.” 

“Finally.”

He reaches out and catches Dan’s fingers in his, twining them together, the spaces between his fingers filled perfectly by Dan’s, as if made for it. Dan has crawled into all the spaces of Phil that were lacking before, rushed in like water, bending and conforming to all the gaps so that Phil has no more blank spaces. He feels whole and complete and it isn’t going to end. Dan is here, within arms reach, and he intends to keep him that way. 

They turn and finally leave the train station, hand in hand.


End file.
